Cutting class

I was in 6th grade. The private school I went to in the late 50s believed in and practiced corporal punishment. It was what my parents signed up for. This was usually administered immediately on the occasion of the offence with a couple of hard slaps on the head and a good scolding.

My friend Skippy and I were in constant trouble, and we spent weekends planning our next ‘adventure’ for the week ahead.

As it happens, this idea was mine – and I am proud of it to this day. It was by far the boldest effort we ever attempted.

At lunch time, the class would be escorted by out teacher down the hallway to the lunchroom. After eating, all the kids would go outside to play for 30 minutes, then line up and be marched back to our classrooms.

It happened that when the class was led down the hallway heading to the lunchroom, we passed the bathrooms. My plan was for Skippy and I to be last in line, and to duck into the boys room when we passed it.

Then we would wait a couple of minutes, slip out of the school to our bikes and ride into town for a soda. The plan was to get back before everyone was called to line up on the playground. No one would ever know.

Well, Skippy and I were able to pull it off; except, we got back too late. All the kids were already off the playground and back in the classrooms. We had no choice but go to our classroom and say that we were in the bathroom.

When we did just that, but our teacher said: “Glad to see you two boys, and Sister Mary Albert (the principal) would like to see you in her office – now!”

We left the classroom and walked down the hallway to the office. The principal’s office was located on a corner of the hallway, and had glass windows; I guess so the principal could keep an eye on the comings and goings in the halls from her desk.

We knocked on her office door and she said: “Come in, boys – I’ve been waiting for you. You may leave the door open.”

“Now, where have you two been?” She asked.

We knew we were caught, so Skip and I told the whole story, hoping that honesty would get us off easier.

When we were done telling our story, sister opened her top desk drawer and removed a wooden paddle. She held it up for us to see and explained that this paddle was ‘The Board of Education’.

Staring at the paddle, it took all of my willpower not to smile. This was great – we would be heroes among all the kids in the school when we told them about our punishment after school.

But then things turned bad, as sister ordered: “Drop your pants, boys.”

Skippy and I glanced at each other with a sense of “What? This has never happened before.”

“Now!” sister said sharply.

Skip and I fumbled with our belt buckles, then the top button, and then the zipper.

We were getting scared as we were now in uncharted territory; not sure what was going to happen. Our pants fell down to our ankles, our button down shirts mostly covering our white underwear.

“You will both be paddled on your bare bottoms. Pull down your underwear. Your leaving school grounds is a very serious infraction.

Neither one of us moved, having been caught completely off guard.

“Underwear – NOW, gentlemen!”

Slowly and most uncomfortably, we pushed our underwear down to our knees. Again, the front of our dress shirt pretty much covered our privates.

Sister got up from her desk and walked around to us, coming to a stop beside Skippy.

“You’ll be first. Turn around, lift your shirt and bend over.”

Skippy did as he was told. I stood no more than 10 inches from his side.

Sister positioned herself, and began to whack his bottom – hard. The slapping sounds echoed out the open door and down the hallways.

I watched the paddle slapping against Skip’s bare bottom, and after a few hits, he was beginning to cry. I couldn’t tell if it was fake or real. We were both experts at faking crying.

I don’t know how many times sister hit him but as I stood right next to him, watching his butt jiggle with each slap of the paddle and get red, I was getting an erection. I was too scared to think of it at the time but I remember it clearly.

When she was done with Skip, she turned her attention on me.

“You’re next, Robert. Pull that shirt up high.”

Slowly I lifted the bottom of the shirt, just a little.

“All the way up to your chest, you bad little boy!”

I pulled the shirt up, with my little dick pointing straight up in the air. I was scared to death.

She looked right at it for a moment and then ordered: “Turn around and bend over, you dirty little boy.”

I did as I was told and received my whacks from ‘The Board of Education’.

When she was done, I straightened up, now crying, and was reminded that the office had windows.

There were kids in the hallway, walking by and looking. I quickly turned my back to those windows, dropping my shirt tails so I’d be covered. My erection had not gone away.

Sister returned to her chair behind her desk and sat. Skippy and me stood there with our pants and underwear at our ankles. We both had our hands covering ourselves.

“Put your hands at your sides,” sister directed. Then she went into a long lecture about what bad boys we were. All the while, we heard classes moving in the hallway through the open door, most certainly seeing the two of us standing there.

After what seemed like forever, she told us to pull our pants up and get back to class.

Contributor: Robert

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